Seasons

All Poems, For Children, Natural Beauty, Seasons, Stories

May Winds

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May winds are warm, but strong.

Knocking down empress, tulip poplar blossoms.

Linden leaves, florets.

Maple whirly wigs, pinecones.

Spreading mushroom spores.

Pushing a yellow balloon across a parking lot.

Mother Nature’s breath.

Diffusing floral aromas.

Upon gusty waves.

Riotous colors, smells.

Swirling about.

Whistles, chirps, trills making melodies.

From high up in trees.

Concert for squirrels, chipmunks, me.

Whooshing zephyrs, songs.

Till I seek intermission.

Blown into the kitchen.

To sit, find tranquility.

Before racing out again.

My eye catches three peace lily blooms,

when I thought there only one.

Silent miracle unfolding.

I, by stillness, overcome.

Lynn Benjamin

May 18, 2024

All Poems, Art/Arts, For Children, Gardens, Natural Beauty, Seasons

Irises

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May is the month for irises to parade.

Some call them flags, others, bearded flowers.

To me, neither.

Rather, flamboyant dancers.

Wearing skirts, hats.

Standing in chorus lines.

Ready to leap onto the stage.

Spinning, twirling, kicking feet.

In all their finery, feathers.

Blues, purples, pastels.

Often, multicolored.

Each sighting, new surprise for the eyes.

Voluptuous, sensuous.

Diffusing light perfume.

Luring bees and me.

Wishing I could touch their costumes.

Like I might a silk or brocade.

But, instead, I stand back.

Nature’s art, admire.

Like I would Van Gogh’s painting,

letting grace inspire.

Lynn Benjamin

May 12, 2024

All Poems, Change, Holidays, Natural Beauty, Passover, Seasons

Empress Tree

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The Empress tree heralds the end of Passover.

Bursting into lavender bells.

Suffusing breezes with sweet fragrances.

Wafting toward the porch, through the door.

Permeating the kitchen with aromas.

Sweeping away the holiday.

Last crumbs of matzah.

Seder plate.

Haggadahs.

Into annual hibernation.

As soft petals lure us deeper into Spring.

The merry month of May.

From order to abandon.

Maple whirly wigs swirling down like rain.

Pollen patinas blanketing outside doors, tables.

Seeds sprouting in chaotic patches.

Ferns unfurling leafy curls.

The scent of fertility, attraction in the air.

Coupling, mating, pairing

under ringing Empress blooms.

Branches swinging, scattering

irresistible perfumes.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 3, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Emotions, Environment/Mother Earth, Hope, Natural Beauty, Plants, Politics, Seasons, Spirituality, Trauma, Violence, Wisdom, Worry

Madding Drumbeat

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The world, madding drumbeat of bad news.

Endless wars.

Unreleased hostages.

Political chicaneries.

Environmental catastrophes.

Where’s the relief?

Even for a moment?

From the echo chamber of the mind?

Playing, replaying the misery?

Where’s the reassurance things will rebalance?

When no one has a crystal ball.

But, everyone, an opinion.

The only comforts, what Mother Nature offers.

Predictability of seasons.

Awakening in spring.

Aromas of lilacs, viburnum bouquets.

Silent explosions of color.

Maple seed pods and mushrooms.

Pollen and nectar.

Honking and chirping.

Baby bunnies and geese.

Newness and vitality.

Energy to move us forward.

Appreciate a smile, kind word.

Offer the same to others.

Tiny attempts to heal what’s broken.

Make something whole.

Do for others what Mother Earth does for us.

In her generous embrace.

Take a breath.

Let the earth caress.

Find blessed respite.

From frenzied distress.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 30, 2024

All Poems, For Children, Natural Beauty, Plants, Pleasure, Seasons

Spring Aromas

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Spring aromas intoxicate.

Fine perfumes wafting on breezes.

No chemists needed.

No bottles.

No exchange of money.

Just there for inhaling.

Lavender lilacs.

Viburnum balls.

Cherry laurel blossoms.

All commingling.

Making life heady.

Glorious, splendid.

Earthy sophistication.

Each season, I await Empress blooms.

To add to this fragrant collection.

With their subtle distinctive scent.

Delicate pale purple beauty.

Arriving late April.

Little bursts from velvety yellow buds.

Dotting branches like Asian lanterns.

Only this morning, I spotted two on the ground.

A few more above.

My heart was overjoyed

to breathe in one more cologne.

I stood stock still, spell bound.

Olfactory hypnotic zone.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 29, 2024

 

 

All Poems, Food, For Children, Humor, Pleasure, Seasons, Stories

Weather for Peas

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This is great weather for peas, said Bob.

As we shivered, ambling through the neighborhood.

After a morning drizzle, lasting hours.

Under unrelenting cloudy skies.

Wearing jackets, scarves, gloves, hats.

Against a chilly wind.

Perfect weather for peas, indeed.

A little forest of bright green sprouts.

In three blue pots, lapping up showers, sun.

Growing in riotous profusion.

Soon to send out tendrils, cling to trellises.

Then bloom white.

Little brides, transforming to plump pods.

Pregnant with peas.

Ready to pick.

Pop into the mouth.

For a burst of sugar.

Easy gustatory image to summon.

From annual savoring, past crunching.

Soon to be in our hands, on our table.

As long as romping deer don’t spot them.

Gobble them down first.

Who knows if our defenses will work?

Blinking red lights to scare.

Garlic and mint aromas to deter.

No wonder there’s competition

for sweet green natural bites.

But the gardener who plants them,

should harvest them by rights!

Lynn Benjamin

April 29, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, For Children, Growth, Humor, Natural Beauty, Pleasure, Seasons

How Do You Tell When Spring Has Arrived?

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How do you tell when spring has arrived?

Flowering plums and cherries?

Golden forsythias?

Hillsides bursting with fig buttercups?

Birds tending to nests?

Turtles and frogs sunning around a pond?

Bees gathering nectar, pollen?

Caterpillars inching across streets?

Sensing giddiness in the air?

For what’s to come.

Nature’s awakening.

From long winter slumber.

Or just the need to shed layers?

Jackets, gloves, vests.

For rising temperatures.

In this heady time of year.

Though I notice all those clues,

the annual reprise,

when Bob pulls out the pots to plant

those snappy green spring peas.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 20, 2024

All Poems, Family, Gardens, Gym/exercise, Health/Illness, Seasons, Spouses

Gardener’s Carry

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I’m doing the gardener’s carry, said Bob.

Hauling a twenty-pound bag of top soil.

From the front of the house to the back.

To cover peas.

The first crop of the season.

Planted three weeks late.

But, announcing the true arrival of spring.

Two afternoons of work in three blue pots.

Ready to catch cool mornings, sunshine, rainy days.

Necessary to sprout.

Grow strong shoots.

Just like the gardener.

Daily working out.

To vitalize muscles.

Lose excess weight.

Stand straight, tall.

Develop stamina.

Fulfill tasks like transporting soil.

Mimicking exercises in the gym.

The gardener was gleeful.

His first spring sowing done.

In a mere three weeks or so,

snap pea germination.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 17, 2024

All Poems, Argentine Family, Easter, Family, For Children, Natural Beauty, New York, Seasons, Trips and Places

Central Park

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Central Park erupted into Spring.

Magnolias, cherries, forsythias.

Daffodils, hyacinths, tulips.

Elaborate floral horse drawn carriages.

Rock sitters, picnickers, trash pickers.

Bicyclists, skaters, rowers, walkers.

Lovers, friends, parents, children.

Chatting in every language imaginable.

Singing sparrows, pigeons.

Waiting to pounce on horses’ feeding buckets.

As soon as they lifted heads to chew.

Frolicking squirrels, even sheep.

When two cousins entered the scene.

On a path from Columbus Circle.

Siblings from Buenos Aires.

On holiday in Manhattan.

Having traveled for a month,

each regaled us with a story.

Meeting us in Central Park

to savor its Easter glory.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 7, 2024

All Poems, Change, Emotions, Seasons

Hard to Believe

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Hard to believe a few deer outside my window.

Munching yellow wildflowers.

When only a day ago, I was in Santa Monica.

Walking along Palisades Park.

Smiling at dozens of ground squirrels.

Sunning themselves near burrows.

On the other side of fences.

Walking grandsons to vacation camp.

At Garden of Angels.

Where they would spend time.

While parents worked.

Hard to believe a five-hour plane trip.

Carried us across the country.

To familiar territory.

And a calendar filled with appointments.

Not thought about in California.

Hard to believe trees just bursting into leaves and flowers.

Bulbs parading in annual glory.

When Southern California was itself an arboretum.

With palms, citrus trees, sycamores.

Bougainvillea, crane flowers, daisies.

Hard to believe I was a coast away,

and now I’m back at home.

I know I’ll need to recover from

Santa Monica Loss Syndrome!

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 1, 2024